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New York City (Troy Ave)

Aye yo, times is hard, but we get through it And even though it’s crimes involved, we had to do ‘em By any means, Malcolm X marks the spot I went from ridin’ bikes to ridin’ through in a drop The road to success for me was real gritty Wasn’t no stress for me, don’t feel pity Life is a bitch and she sure ain’t pretty And I’mma do me anyway, nigga ‘Cause I’m from New York City I break bread, ribs, hundred dollar bills A young prodigy when it come to drug deals In New York I get blood money Dirty cash bought my matte black Jeep I used to skip out on cabs Went from givin’ no dough to given limos to get to shows Either way I’m driven – this shit shows Spit flows like B?, sick hoes, got a Master Rolex watch above my Mo’ Drinkin’ champagne out the bottle Young Crisco, pop it, hop in, let’s politic, ditto Same niggas sayin’ “time to get this money” They’ve been the same niggas sayin’ that for years, still hungry New discussion: New York artists wanna be southern The city’s lost, so out-of-towners find themselves frontin’ It was Big, Jay Z, now Troy here after But Kendrick Lamar’s just a weirdo rapper We went from Uzis to elephant guns Small pistols on Gynsills – little shorties, cheeba, big forties Sittin’ back in the ‘hood – good, nigga, good Retrievin’ every dollar bill, grabbin’ my wood You know we specialists at nighttime Call us the poisonous pumpers Who run up on these niggas like Nightline The arsonists and good vines That means the wares is amazing – assignment, baby, since ’89 Creepin’ through hallways, big laundry bags Four Ks – handle them niggas, now jam niggas Fuck they gon’ do with no CREAM? You might as well be a bum ‘Cause you could never represent the money team We smash faces, flash bracelets, that’s the basic Don’t get smacked in your mouth with 45 razors Yeah, the jungle brothers rollin’ with all coverage Get ‘em young Troy – What? He fucked with us… You know how I steady rock – New York City bop Used to slang grainy rock – war on the petty block Back-to-back cases… Now we drink liquor, drinkin’ back-to-back cases No, we ain’t erase this Spades hand, aces – out of town papers Luck’s all Vegas – herb shit, Avis I graduated from the street life accordingly Said my first rhyme on a jail phone, recordedly I been shot niggas since 14 I’ve been to war, mean – got guns from Fort Greene I exorted niggas – I was the re-up man I gave the orders, nigga – P.A.P.I. gave the orders, nigga King flow, used to get coke from Domingo …in the old folks’ home, he’s playin’ bingo He sold it for 10, but I got him for cinco Safe in the ceiling, the guns under the sink flow The life and times of a New York Nigga, we very different Please pardon my aggression, but move from my vision With that bullshit you spittin’, you talkin’ my high off You blowin’ my high, you forcin’ my iron off my belt I’m forcin’ myself to be chill… Listen to them journalists, get yourself killed They ain’t never lived this life, and no nothin’ ’bout it They hide behind aliases and talk rowdy From behind a MacBook, fuck a blog, dawg If I see you in the flesh you’ll be shook Like a martini – I know they tired of me I know they wish I would die already, but I’m very dope I’m so cold, you should get your February coat That NY shit, you niggas got warm hearts No offense, but I’ll tear you apart No matter which part of the map you reppin’, get your weapon [Hook: Troy Ave]